


Mary's Room

by rebsrebsrebsrebs



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Satan (Obey Me), Dirty Talk, Foreplay, Insects, Is that a thing, Lesson 16 (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!) Spoilers, M/M, MC is an entomologist and nerds out about bugs but it isn't terribly detailed, MC uses they/them pronouns, Named MC, Nerds in Love, Oral Sex, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Romance, Satan is a very good boyfriend okay, Smut and Fluff, Teasing, The Bottom Tries Topping, anxiety resolution, bug talk, incorrect references to biblical lore, incorrect references to the Inferno, it is in this fic, mid sex anxiety moment, nonbinary MC, shy dirty talk, snuggles, there's enough plot cushion to lead into the kissin' but thas it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:28:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23867542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebsrebsrebsrebs/pseuds/rebsrebsrebsrebs
Summary: In the thought experiment called "Mary's Room", Mary is a scientist, and she is an expert on color vision. She knows everything there is to know about color, but she has always lived in a black and white room. Her books are all printed in black and white, as is her computer screen. One day, her computer screen malfunctions, and shows her a picture of an apple in full color. She sees the color red for the first time in her life. The question is this: by observing color with her own eyes, did she actually learn anything new?After a study session with Satan goes astray, Thatcher makes the case that research can only get one so far.Contains a vague spoiler for Ch 16-17.
Relationships: Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Original Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 34





	Mary's Room

**Author's Note:**

> hi everyone! thanks for stopping in. i haven't written for public consumption in six years so i'm very nervous about publishing this, but i am going to do it anyway! please treat me kindly 🙏 i hope you enjoy!

There are plenty of insects to study in Hell.

There's an entire ecosystem unique to the harsh conditions down below, evolving to thrive in the Devildom dirt, the lack of sunlight, the blood-red ocean, and feed on its flora and fauna. Thatcher has spent many an afternoon and stayed up a late night to sate their curiosity and catch these fearsome creatures. A few hours and some drawings later, the little beast is released. It goes back to live its short life beyond Thatcher's view. A beetle or butterfly, captured for their study, is an exchange student in its own right. 

Some of that study is limited to pure theory, however. At Satan's desk, Thatcher pores over a dense ecology textbook that describes a very specific locust, seen only once by humanity. It is relegated now to one of the middling levels of the Inferno, known only to those who will spend their eternities punished by its swarm. They stare at the text, occasionally glancing over at their sketchbook to check the accuracy of their copied drawing.

"Can I go see them?" they had asked the first time they'd heard of the specimen.

"No," came Satan's response. "The nine circles are meant only for those being punished. The human psyche cannot survive it, by design."

They pouted then, much like they are now. The fact that they couldn't study the infamous plague of locusts has bothered them for days, and their mind kept returning to it as their frustration ramped up.

"Reading about it just isn't the same as being able to see it! I want to draw it for myself." Frustrated, they close the book with a huff. "There aren't even any in a museum somewhere? Where I could go see them safely with my psyche intact?"

Satan chuckles from his bed, not looking up from the book in his lap. "You really want to see this one kind of locust that badly?"

"Yes!" Thatcher taps rapidly on their thigh, trying to force out their embittered energy with movement. "I just - I hate that I can't. I understand _why_ I can't. But I don't have to like it."

"I understand." He smiles. "Come here." Satan sets aside the textbook he'd been studying, shifts his notes over, and makes room for his human on the bed. As his partner flops onto the sheets, sighing dramatically, he pulls them close, their head on his chest. "You're normally far more shy about your wants, my love."

"I am _never_ shy about bugs."

"Last week you hesitated to tell Belphie that the way he sleeps reminds you of a pill bug."

"Roly-poly," they correct, insistent on the cuter name for the little round insect. "That wasn't shyness about bugs, that was shyness about paying compliments."

"Being called a pill bug is a compliment?" he teases, his teeth shining under that shit-eating grin Thatcher couldn't help but fall in love with.

"They're cute!"

"You're cute."

Satan silences any protests with a kiss. The pair had been together for months now, and despite having made it past the first growing pains of a new relationship, Thatcher was still easily flustered. How such a unique person, blessed in intelligence and in bloodline, could be so shy... Satan found it endearing. Precious.

Thatcher's hands continue their restless fidgeting, playing with the texture of Satan's fingers. They examine the callouses formed by years of turning pages, their fingernails gently scraping past the bends of each knuckle.

"Reading about something and experiencing it aren't the same," they posit, lacing their fingers with his. "I want to see how it flies around with my own eyes. I want to draw its wings. I want to try and catch one." They settle some, sinking against Satan's chest as he nuzzles the top of their head.

"Are you familiar with the philosophical question of Mary's Room?"

"Yeah."

"So you think that Mary had more to learn. That theoretical knowledge is incomplete without experience."

"I do."

He kisses their forehead. "Why?"

Thatcher closes their eyes, wanting to choose their words carefully. They know all the fancy words to answer this question: qualia, the knowledge argument, conscious perception and the argument from physicality. But they aren't in the mood for that kind of conversation. They sigh.

"Experience is just _different_. I want to know what it's like to _see_ the swarm, not just read about it. I want to live it." They squeeze Satan's hand, gentle but insistent. "I have fewer limits here than in the human realm, and more to explore... but all my reading still doesn't give me what I want. If I didn't think I would die I'd run out and try to find the locusts myself."

The blonde grins again. "How demonic of you, to be unable to resist your temptations. " He uses the arm underneath Thatcher to pull a little, lifting the human that much closer to being on top of him. "Speaking of... could I distract you for a while? Would that help?" He brings their hand, smudged with graphite from their sketchbook, to his lips for a teasing kiss. Thatcher flushes.

"You're going to try to distract me from my bug conundrum with kisses?"

"Yes."

Those green eyes practically shimmer, and it makes Thatcher's stomach flutter. But they can't - and indeed, don't - deny the butterflies that rise within them. He's right; they can't resist.

They shift on their own, positioning themself fully on top of the demon with only a little hesitation, and press a warm kiss to his lips. It warms Satan's heart to feel them relax so readily into his touch, to even take the lead a little; they used to squeeze his hands until they were sore. They are more confident now, but still soft as they cup his cheeks to bring him in for more kisses. Past their reservations, he'd learned that Thatcher was _needy_ , in more ways that one. They had an intense passion for life, a thirst to get whatever they wanted, and in turn Satan wanted to give them everything he could.

The kisses continue, and they both leave their thoughts behind. Satan dips his head and nips Thatcher's ear, making the human shiver in his lap. The heat between them escalates. Chaste kisses bend to soft gasps, to grasping hands, and Satan starts to bite at the hint of neck exposed above their collar. Thatcher starts to pull at the buttons of their shirt and jacket, but they can only stand to not touch their boyfriend for so long. 

Satan takes care to remember each little thing as they touch. Thatcher's legs are just a little too short to straddle him comfortably but they do it anyway, and he relishes the sound of every breath as his hands skim their body. Warmth emits from beneath their skirt as his hands push the garment up.

Thatcher's hands leave a hint of gray behind as they curl their fingers into Satan's sweater. Now might be their chance. They need to bring it up before they get too far, or else they'll psych themself out or get too lost in pleasure to speak. 

"Uh, hey. Speaking of research."

All motion stops. Satan pulls himself back, one eyebrow cocked up.

"Please tell me you aren't still thinking of bugs right now." The accusation causes Thatcher to blush even darker and they look away, trying to keep their nerve.

"No, of course not! I'm- I'm trying to be smooth here. Give me a chance." 

"No, but keep trying."

The demon - and he _really_ is one, thinks Thatcher, trying to keep their thoughts together - undoes their tie to continue the assault on their neck. They stammer briefly, before managing to distract themself from that sinful tongue.

"I've been doing some, uh. Extra curricular reasearch in my spare time." They wait for an answer, but realize they won't get one as Satan undoes the buttons of their shirt, hands skimming of the flat expanse of their chest and mouth not far behind. "And I'm finding that entomology isn't the only field I'm frustrated with."

"This is still kind of about insects, my dear," he teases, licking their newly exposed nipple. Thatcher huffs.

"Okay fine! No more trying to be suave. I've been reading some of the romance novels you lent me and I want to try to top."

The outburst was unexpected enough to still Satan's advances. Sensing the shift in the gravity of the situation, he pulls back, hands returning to the outside of his partner's shirt. What a sight they are, he thinks. Their brown hair disheveled, green eyes that match his own hazed with desire. They look away, clearly embarrassed at their own insistence. It makes his heart flutter, both the mental image of their suggestion and at the shame they feel. A stab at their forwardness dies on his tongue as he decides that the proposition deserves a serious answer.

"Alright."

"... Alright?" 

With a smile, Satan closed the distance between them once more for a kiss. "Of course. How could I deny you?" 

Thatcher looks down, observing the scene of themself, blushing down past the faint bite marks on their neck. Vulnerability is hard, but so are they it seems, and arousal wins out against their nerves for now. They're grateful that he chose now to stop teasing.

"You could say no."

"I don't want to."

Thatcher is needy, and Satan will give them everything.

The two of them reach for each other in sync and full force. Thatcher, all too aware of how their erection is pressing forward beneath their skirt and the growing wet spot at the front of their briefs, pushes the navy blue blazer from Satan's shoulders, and his hands pull back from their body just enough to slip free of the sleeves. As the pair works at each other, Thatcher ends up topless first and balks about how unfair it is.

"One of these days I'm just gonna keep the uniform on. This takes forever." 

"I think I'd like that."

"Yeah, you would."

Their lips meet again, hot, slick already from the kisses exchanged between them. Thatcher grinds down and squeezes their legs around Satan's hips, and both hiss as their lengths press together though the layers of fabric. Satan proves his dexterity over and over again; his hands are everywhere on his lover's body. He pinches a peaked nipple with one hand, mouth following behind his fingers, slides the other beneath the waistband of Thatcher's simple briefs. His slim fingers wrap around their cock, lavishing his attention there, pulling all kinds of sound from his human's lips. Every movement serves them both, as the tug of Satan's hands and Thatcher's erratic thrusts press their hips together. Thatcher lifts the hem of their skirt to give their partner better access and a view.

"Hey, don't have too much fun... I can't come yet if I want to take you." Satan smiles, leans forward, and brings his beloved in for another kiss.

"I wouldn't risk that. But I still want to have my turn with you first."

Even as they try to take the lead, Thatcher can't help how weak they are to Satan's words. They shudder and next thing they know, their back is to the mattress, and their demon is pulling off the last of their clothes before starting on himself.

As their boyfriend disrobes, they catch their breath. The air seems to buzz around them, and the hum in their stomach only rises as Satan bares himself. It was easy to be insecure in the presence of someone so beautiful - Thatcher didn't know how Mammon was the only model in the family - but their lover wouldn't allow it. "I could parrot a million cliches for you," he had said in their first time, "or I could show you just how attractive I think you are." 

While they are distracted by their own thoughts, Thatcher barely notices that Satan has settled himself between their legs, only popped from their memories when the demon takes them into his mouth.

"Hah!"

Back in the now, their hands grip the sheets as Satan bobs his head slowly. He laces their fingers together. 'How romantic,' they think. He's slow and practiced, a master of subtlety, changing his techniques and riling up his human with each movement of that _way too skillful_ tongue. He hollows his cheeks to suck before paying specific attention to the underside of the head. Thatcher barely has time to dribble precum from their cock before it is eagerly lapped up. 

"Satan, please, I want - let me have you."

Satan releases their length and kisses them, sharing the taste of musk and salt.

"You already have me."

But he knows what they want, and they'll get it. 

"Let me prepare myself. You rest. I don't want you bursting too soon."

Like those sultry words aren't doing their fair share to push Thatcher over the edge. But they wait, and they watch. 

The avatar of wrath takes the bottle of lubricant from the windowsill, where it lived these days after they deemed the bedside table drawer too far away. Thatcher shifts and sits on their own hands as Satan maintains eye contact, his newly slicked fingers slipping down between his legs. He leans forward, supported by his other hand, as he presses the first finger into himself. Whether he is making a show of himself on purpose, the human isn't sure, but it is absolutely a pleasure to see.

"So you've been 'researching' this." The voice breaks through Thatcher's cloud of horny thoughts, though they still can't tear their eyes away from the sight of Satan's cock standing hard and ready away from his stomach. "And that means you've been thinking of me." They swallow hard, nodding. "Tell me what you imagined."

Nevermind. He's definitely making a show.

"Oh. You... ah..." They squirm, keeping their hands underneath their thighs, nerves rising through their arousal. They want to last and do their demon proud, but their shyness would fight tooth and nail for a handhold. "I'd imagined it going not too different from this... but I was a bit more assertive in my daydreams. I thought of kissing you until we were both needy messes." Thatcher can't see that Satan presses his first finger in farther, but they do see the look on his face. His lips part gently in reaction to his own probing touch. "And then when you went to prep me I would be all, uh. Sweet. And romantic. 'Allow me'," they chuckle, hips raising against nothing. "All polite, like you do."

Satan rocks his hips back and moans, his eyes only half open now but still staring right back at the human. "You want to be a gentleman for me, my dear?"

"Yeah... yeah, I do. I love you."

"I love you too." A second finger joins the first. There are a few moments of quiet between them as the demon adjusts. "Keep talking." 

"Right. Yeah." They take a shaky breath, resuming the fantasy. "I wanted to work you open with my hands. I'd probably have to use more fingers since my hands are small, but I think you could take it."

"I could. And I want to. I'll let you do it next time." Satan licks his lips, imagining, and Thatcher's restraint thins. "I had thought you might like some help for the first time."

"Thanks."

"That, and you still have pencil on your hands." Satan moans again as he presses himself against his fingers, continuing his stretch, and he drips precum on the sheets. Thatcher hurriedly tries to rub the graphite from their palms. They aren't successful. "Don't worry about it. Keep going."

"Ah..." Thatcher's dick twitches as they take in the sight. One of the seven rulers of Hell bent on his knees, spreading himself to get fucked by a human. For a moment they feel important, even though rank never really mattered to them. Still, there was a thrill in knowing that someone so powerful and dangerous would willingly lay himself down for them. "Then I would lay you back. And make sure you're comfortable. I uh, I don't know if you've done it before like this, so I imagined you didn't, and... the face you would make as I took you would be so sweet. And I would watch you let go. For the first time. For me..." Another squirm, and they fidget with the sheets again. They're getting antsy. "Any chance you're ready yet? I think I'm gonna go crazy."

There's that smile again. 'Asshole,' Thatcher thinks.

"So impatient." Satan bends forward, pressing kisses to Thatcher's body as he works up to their lips. "Maybe I could fix that."

"Some other night. One new thing is enough for now."

The couple turns over together, trading places. They exchange more kisses before Thatcher sits back, shifting into position, and the demon bends his knees to accommodate them. Then they freeze.

It's mostly arousal and anticipation, they want to think. Satan is a beautiful man. They always had a thing for beautiful men with polite smiles and too much knowledge for their own good. Seeing his trim body lying back, recumbent, waiting for the human to give him their all... if they could draw it and save it forever, they would. Who could blame them if they overheated a little? But the truth is that insecurity will raise its head at the worst times, and try though they might, they can't help the anxious twitch in their chest. The change in their demeanor pulls Satan back to reality.

"Thatcher." 

"Sorry. Sorry, I know-" they start, aware and ashamed of their hesitation. They look around the room, anxious gaze refusing to settle. "It's not that I don't want to. I just--"

"Shhhh."

They obey. Satan takes Thatcher's blushing face between his hands, trying to ground them.

"You're nervous. That's fine. We can stop if you'd like."

They lean into the touch, nuzzling their cheek against Satan's palm. They are nervous and that is fine. It becomes a mantra, and they breathe with it for a bit. In for four, out for eight. They count quietly, voice barely audible. Bit by bit the pins and needles fade. Their heartbeat calms. They shake their head.

"No. I want to keep going." They kiss his hand, soft and sweet, and gently free themself from his kind hold. "I've come this far... I want to follow through. And I still want you so much."

Satan hums, satisfied with their response. "You know that I wouldn't push you, if you really wanted to stop, but I am glad for that. I would hate to be left like this." He grins, charming, and refreshingly not smug. "Now are you going to make love to me, or do I need to roll you back over?"

"Alright, alright!" After a few more giggles and kisses, Thatcher takes the bottle of lube from where it sat on the sheets and opens the cap. They stroke themself slick, the stimulation enough to have them forgetting those last clinging bits of shame. Their boyfriend watches from below, adoring, as they line themself up with his entrance and press inside.

"Mmmh, love." 

Thatcher tries to keep control of their hips and enter slowly, but Satan feels so fucking _hot_ inside that waiting feels impossible. All thoughts fade from their mind as soon as they appear - they can't believe they managed to even have other thoughts right now. They hiss once they're fully sat inside, drowning and surrounded, and take in a shaky breath. "Haa.. is that okay? Can I move?" They whine when Satan gives his blessing.

They pace they set is slow and experimental. Thatcher tries to enjoy the moment consciously, but their concentration doesn't manage to hold. There's so much to process: Satan's heat, how he squeezes around them, the slight pain where his nails dig in to Thatcher's shoulder, how absolutely in love they are, not to mention the look on his face. The demon is flushed, pale skin being overtaken by his lust and his lover alike, red hot underneath their touch. The room is quiet; even their skin barely makes a sound at this low intensity. They feel good, Satan thinks, but he needs more from them. If they wanted to take the lead, then they would have to take the responsibility as well. He yanks Thatcher down by the shoulders and kisses them.

"Move faster."

Somewhere inside the human, a barrier breaks. Their selfish desire to know what this felt like gives way to a need to serve. Their confidence soars on command, wanting nothing more than to please their love, to make him tremble. It somehow becomes easier when it's less about themself. They snap their hips forward once to test their strength and take the resulting moan as approval. The quiet is lost and replaced with the sounds of sex, the mixed choir of tiny yeses and heavy gasps shared between them. 

Thatcher's wrists ache with the effort of holding themself up, so they drop to their elbows, arms on either side of Satan's head, which he uses to his advantage to keep them kissing him as their hips meet again and again. Everything is moving so fast in the best way possible, and they focus on the pleasure they can give to the demon below them. If he likes them to talk so much, then maybe...

"Hah, see, this is -- this is why experience changes things," they gasp, working hard to form the sentence between thrusts and kisses. "Imagining this didn't even come close to the real thing... Only having you like this, for real, can give me what I want." Satan arches his back at their words, spoken so close to his ears, and their kisses interspersed with the compliments. "Only now do I really know how _good_ you feel. And how sweet your face looks with your eyes shut like that." Thatcher moves their right hand down, no longer hesitant, instead eager to get more of those reactions. Satan bucks his hips as they take his cock in hand. He whines at the attention, taking in everything and letting himself be served this way. Thatcher smiles. "And those sounds... if we didn't experience this, if I didn't want you so bad, it would have all been theory." 

Satan isn't in a place to argue with that at all, and even if he were, he's not sure he would. He clings harder to Thatcher despite their existing closeness, as if having their chests pressed flush together isn't nearly close enough. He wants all of them to touch every inch of his skin, to melt together as his toes curl, but for now he settles for bringing their face to his and shutting up that monologue with a deep kiss.

"Don't - don't stop. Keep going. Learn what it's like when I come for you."

Thatcher hisses through clenched teeth, losing what little composure they have left. "Hnn, fuck - yes, please, Satan, come for me!"

A swift jerk of their hand, a few more determined thrusts, and they break. It's pure sensation when they release, white hot and satisfying, together. 

\---

Time passes quietly as their heartbeats slow down. Tissues are lazily exchanged and wiped across skin, ridding the pair of enough sweat and cum to snuggle comfortably. They'll need to shower, but first they'll need to be willing to stand. Satan sighs, eyes shut, ready to enjoy this serene moment. Thatcher breaks the post-coital peace in the nerdiest way possible.

"Do demons have a higher body temperature than humans? Or am I just cold all the time?" They snuggle against Satan's body. He smells like sex and the scented tissue they used to wipe him clean. "That was really hot." They blush, only catching the potential double entendre after the words have left their mouth. "I mean it was really hot like _that_ , but what I meant was. You're really warm? All the time. And it was a lot when I could feel it all over." 

The demon chuckles. The rumble sounds different with their ear pressed right to his chest. "Both. We are built to survive more extreme conditions, and you do have a slightly below average body temperature for a human."

"What? Did you know that the whole time and not tell me?"

"Judging by how many sweaters you own and how often you try to steal mine, I thought you already knew."

"I didn't!"

"Hm. The more you know." He plays with their hair, twirling a wet strand between his fingers. "It seems you're learning a lot today." When the human smiles, bright like the sun he hasn't seen in ages, he falls in love all over again.

"I am! And there's nobody I'd rather do it with."

"I would rather hope you weren't 'doing it' with anyone else."

"Hey!!"

**Author's Note:**

> if you're interested in thatcher or my other mcs, i post about all my mcs on my obey me sideblog, rebsrebsrebsrebs.tumblr.com. feel free to join me there, i'm happy to have you! kudos and comments are appreciated.
> 
> special thanks to Take_Me_To_My_Fragile_Dreams and HellBunnyy for their inspiration and encouragement!! y'all really gave me the boost i needed to publish this. thank you so much. looking forward to reading more from both of you 💜


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